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by ColetheWolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Requited Love, Teen Wolf S6B, Touching, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 00:39:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11863014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColetheWolf/pseuds/ColetheWolf
Summary: Following another villainous Beacon Hills showdown, Stiles & Derek feel some kind of way about things...





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**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, so I haven't written anything in a long time. This is somewhat of a ficlet that I started working on last week & just got around to finishing. Short & sweet. It's basically my headcanon for how this whole TW6B mess should end. Hopefully you guys enjoy!

The sound of creaking floorboards and footsteps down the hallway outside of Stiles’ bedroom roused him from his otherwise comfortable sleep. His eyes flickered open and he took a moment to look around his old bedroom, orienting himself to the surroundings. He had only been away for a few months, but everything felt different. Nonetheless, he could see that it was barely morning—the sun’s rays barely strong enough to sear through the wooden blinds of the bedroom window.

Average morning calmness seemed to settle gently throughout the room, yet the continued sound of footsteps heading downstairs was more than enough to peak Stiles’ unyielding curiosity. He quickly hopped out of bed, slightly wincing at his own body’s soreness from his involvement with the supernatural shenanigans that had all come to a head the night before. But of course, what kind of town would Beacon Hills have been if it didn’t leave you a little black and blue?

Stiles made his way downstairs, only to catch the sight of Derek opening the front door in an attempt to leave. He watched Derek ready himself to step out into the foggy and brutally cold morning. But before Derek could even step his first foot through the threshold, Stiles let his groggy voice break through the stark quiet of the house.

“Y’know, people typically like to at least say ‘thank-you’ for having been treated to a luxurious stay in our guest bedroom for the night.” Stiles crossed his arms, patting gently at his own biceps in an attempt to create some body heat. “Were the accommodations not up to your liking?”

“I didn’t want to wake you.” Derek said, shutting the front door.

Derek turned around to face in Stiles’ direction. He wore a fairly relaxed expression on his face, which Stiles took great notice in. Derek appeared well-rested, despite the fact that the past couple days had put the both of them through hell and back. Derek playing the role as the popular fugitive wasn’t as interesting as it had been the first time. Though strangely enough, Stiles found it somewhat interesting that he was always the one getting tangled up with Derek’s personal life.

It felt normal.

Stiles peered down to the small duffle bag that Derek was carrying in one of his hands—which only contained a secondary change of clothes. For the past couple months, Derek had been living almost entirely off the grid, surviving in the wilds by himself, on the run. An extra pair of clothes was almost all he could manage to carry with himself.

“I guess you’re leaving?” Stiles questioned, sounding somewhat accusatory. “Now what? Are you just jumping right back to living in isolation back out in the wilderness?

“I’ve always lived like that.” Derek gruffed out. “Why should it be some sort of problem now?”

Stiles shook his head, stepping closer towards Derek. “I think we both know that you didn’t always live like that.”

“And look at how that worked out for me.” Derek scoffed. “So, what is it that you want from me?”

“I don’t know. How about sticking around for more than a couple months? Don’t leave? Make a home here?” Stiles babbled, gesturing from place to place with his hands. “Stay—”

Derek was somewhat reluctant to respond. He didn’t exactly know why, but his chest felt tight as he listened to Stiles’ words. There was emotion strongly rooted behind them—Derek understood that much. Yet, he was entirely confused when it came to deciphering the exact brand of emotion. Was Stiles angry at the fact that he was already forced to take an unplanned vacation from his FBI academy program? Maybe he was irked by the fact that even after being able to escape Beacon Hills, a supernatural mess still managed to find itself back into his life.

Unfortunately, Derek couldn’t help but feel like the mess.

“There’s not that much of a home for me in Beacon Hills anymore.” Derek confirmed. “There hasn’t been one here for years.”

“Oh, come on.” Stiles scoffed. “You’re one of the few things I think about when I think about Beacon Hills.”

“And…that’s supposed to be a good thing?” Derek raised an eyebrow, awaiting a response.

Stiles scratched aimlessly at the back of his head, darting his gaze away from Derek’s calm eyes, down towards the floor—seemingly anxious and embarrassed. “Well, yeah.” He started. “Beacon Hills has always been my home. I don’t see why we can’t call Beacon Hills ‘home’ together.”

A dazzling spark of realization gleamed in Derek’s eyes as he widened them in surprise. He let the straps of his duffle bag slide out of his calloused grasp, letting the bag fall down to the wooden floor of Stiles’ foyer. Was Derek falling into delusion, or was he hearing Stiles’ words correctly for what they really meant under the surface? If the returned tightness in his chest meant anything, signs were pointing to ‘yes’.

However, just to make sure that he wasn’t jumping to conclusions and creating a non-existent scenario in his mind, Derek studied Stiles’ facial expression for further cues. He wouldn’t let his mind make up a complete determination so quickly.  And yet, Derek minds kept racing through Stiles’ words, his body language, his scent—everything kept adding up to the same thing.

“Stiles—” Derek began calmly.

“Look, just forget it.” Stiles interrupted. “I didn’t mean to push so far—or make you uncomfortable—or make a total fool out of myself—or—”

Before Stiles could continue his patchwork apology, Derek made a decision. He stepped forward into Stiles’ frame and clashed their lips together in a passionate kiss—settling the anxiousness between the both of them. Immediately, the two got lost in each other’s warmth. An overwhelmingly mixed sensation of safety and security and enlightenment wrapped around their bodies. Everything felt right. Everything made sense.

After all of the unbroken stares, the occasional brush of skin against skin, the bickering, the banter, the struggle to be the one to feel more in control of every situation and the shared fight to remain unbroken by ghosts of their individual pasts—suddenly everything made sense. Everything that the two of them had gone through managed to bring the both of them to this moment—to this discovery.

The kiss deepened. Both of them let their hands explore each other’s bodies—trailing softly down and around and over places that the two of them had secretly fantasized about touching before, though neither would admit it if the other were to ask. They continued to grow braver with their touches, louder with their sounds, and more certain of the situation, but then Derek pulled away—shattering the moment.

“I can’t—I can’t let you give up your chance and your place in training back in Washington. That’s what you want to do.” Derek said, catching his breath and wiping his lips with the pad of his thumb. “You’ve already sacrificed enough to help clear my name.”

Stiles licked his lips. “I thought that’s what I wanted to do. But over the past couple days, fighting alongside you again knocked something into me. I think I jumped at the opportunity without actually thinking it through.”

“A good opportunity.” Derek added. “An opportunity you _should_ jump at.”

“It’s not what I really wanted.”

“You’d make a great detective. You’d make a great agent.”

“I thought so…but you already know that I’m not the one to follow rules.” Stiles explained with a slight chuckle. “And that’s all it was… _rules_. It was gray and boring. It wasn’t interesting. There wasn’t any thrill to get off from it. But you know what is interesting? Werewolves, kanimas, druids, banshees, ancient demonic spirits….”

Derek listened attentively, affectionately grabbing at Stiles’ hands—intertwining their fingers. “So, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that if the past couple days have taught me anything, it’s that detectives and agents will never understand the supernatural world. And I might not understand everything there is out there, but at least I’m willing to try. Beacon Hills is where I can make the biggest difference.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Feel free to leave comments & kudos. Leave suggestions for things you'd like to see me write.


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